


Wherefore Art Thou, Bark Ruffalo?

by regardinglove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dog Trainer Cas, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Scientist Dean, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/pseuds/regardinglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s always been a fan of dogs, but not when they get loose at twelve a.m….in the pouring rain…with their anxious, blue-eyed owner demanding that he help find his prized, award winning pet. </p><p>Based off the ‘Please, I really cannot find my cat and I know it’s three a.m. but Neil Catrick Harris and I would both appreciate the help’ AU from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherefore Art Thou, Bark Ruffalo?

Dean is dreaming of beaches and sand castles when the first boom hits. At first he thinks it is just another clap of thunder, they’d been coming pretty regularly for the past few hours after all, but this one is different. It’s louder than the thunder, and it sounds a helluva lot closer than it should be. He probably should go check it out…or he could just roll back over and get back to that beautiful ocean view he had going a few seconds ago. 

Bam. Once again, the noise rings out from somewhere in the house. This time Dean’s eyes fly open as he pushes up from the bed. _What the hell?_

Bam, bam, bam! The noise rings out louder than before, and with a groan Dean swipes his phone off the bedside table. 12:30 A.M, it reads. Who or what is banging on his house at midnight?  

The bangs continue on, and then Dean knows he hears the jiggling of a doorknob along with it. His mind races through the possibilities. A burglar? He feels like that’d be unlikely. It’s a family neighborhood near a police station, and the only trouble that’d come to the little town in the past few years had been from bored teenagers trying to find a little fun, usually in the form of knocking down mailboxes. Besides, who’d target Dean’s house? His is the cheapest one on the whole block, and with his rigorous schedule at the lab he’d hardly had time to fix it up. No, nobody would choose to rob his house when there are three white picket fence, American dream homes right next door. 

At least that’s what Dean tells himself, but when the banging begins again he ends up grabbing a baseball bat from the closet for good measure before he pads quietly through the dark house, trying his best not to wake up Sam sleeping across the hall. 

Bam! The noise is clearly coming from his front door, and Dean jumps back when a flash of lightning reveals a figure through the windows.

“You better run or I’ll call the cops!” Dean yells as he approaches the door, but the figure makes no move to leave. “I mean it! I-“

Dean’s words come up short when he throws open the door and finds the most beautiful man he’s ever seen looking back at him with wide, brilliant blue eyes.  

“I’m sorry,” the man says in a low, rumbly voice. “I’m new to the neighborhood and I can’t find my dog. I’ve tried getting other people to help but they refused and now I can’t find him and-“ 

“Whoa whoa whoa calm down, buddy,” Dean says as he gestures for the man to walk inside. “You’re dripping wet and shivering, so let me get you a towel and then we can talk, you capiche?”  

“Yeah, I capiche,” the man says as he trudges over to Dean’s plaid couch in the living room. Usually Dean would yell at the guy for sitting down while he’s wetter than water itself, but the man already looks completely lost so he ignores it, opting to grab a towel and dry clothes from his closet instead. When he returns, the man is rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes flit around the room, clearly freaking out over his lost cat…or dog…or whatever.  

“I know it’s not much,” Dean says as he throws the clothes and towel at the guy, “but it’s home. Plus I’m the one who’s helpin' ya at midnight, so no complaining.” 

“I wasn’t going to…” the man trails off with a confused glint in his eye. 

“Dean Winchester,” he replies as he gestures at himself.  

The man puts out his hand. “Castiel Novak, but you can call me Cas. I just moved in across the street a few days ago.”  

The lightbulb goes off in Dean’s head. _Of course_ , he thinks. That yellow, straight out of a magazine house had been on the market for almost a year with at least ten offers, but the owner wasn’t willing to sell it unless the buyer “was the right person,” Dean remembers her telling him. “You bought Mrs. Jones bungalow? She actually parted with it?” 

Cas nods as he begins toweling off. “She was reluctant to sell it to me because I’m a single man in the New York suburbs, which she thinks is just asking for trouble, but I think Bark Ruffalo was able to convince her.”  

“…Bark Ruffalo?” Dean asks like a question and he just groans when Cas nods in response. “Don’t tell me you named your dog Bark Ruffalo.” 

“Actually it was his racing name,” Cas says with an air of offense in his tone, “and he was one of the best dogs on the Greyhound track. That impressed Mrs. Jones, apparently.”  

Dean just rolls his eyes and trudges over to the closet. “Okay, so not only are we tracking down a dog in the middle of the night, but it is a _racing_ dog? Really?”  

“He’s not just a racing dog,” Cas corrects him as he tries to push out the last of the water from his clothes. “Now that he’s retired from the racing track, he’s working the dog show track. He’s won the Purina, American Kennel Club, and Westminster dog shows, thank you very much.” 

“Great, just great. We better find this Mark Ruffalo then-“ 

“ _Bark_ Ruffalo,” Cas says as he grabs Dean’s clothes from the couch with a little too much force, “and if you’re going to make fun of him the entire time, then I’ll just find someone else.”  

“No, no, I’ll be good,” Dean says. “Now get changed and grab an umbrella from the closet. I’ll be waiting in my car.” 

* * *

When two hours pass and they haven’t found Cas’s dog, even Dean begins to worry. It’s not like a greyhound is a small creature, and Willis Hollow isn’t exactly a big town. They checked all of the places Cas thought Bark Ruffalo- Dean can’t say the name without laughing, even after they’ve been calling it out for hours on end- could be. He’s not at the local dog park where Cas takes him for daily walks, or the fire station where Cas volunteers on the weekends, or even the candy store Cas’s brother owns downtown. He’s beginning to lose hope that they’ll ever track down the prized pet, but Dean’s not giving up yet. He’d like to be selfless and say that it is because he only wants to get the dog back to Cas safe and sound, but that’d be a lie. If Dean’s being honest, he’s not going to give up because he genuinely enjoys Cas’s company and the little facts that come out when he talks about his dog. Hell, he probably knows more about Cas from talking to him these past few hours than he does his neighbors whom have lived next to him for a decade. 

“Bark Ruffalo!” Cas calls out the window for the thousandth time as Dean drives down Parkway Avenue. “Bark Ruffalo!” 

“It’s not workin’, Cas,” Dean groans as he pulls over into a BP station. “We’ve been at it for hours with the name calling and nothing. We need a new approach.” 

Cas squints at Dean, then turns towards the window. “I don’t know what else to do,” Cas sighs. “I’m not a Divine being; I just can’t, y’know, sense where he is! I wish I thought of bringing a piece of jerky; Bark loves that stuff.”  

Dean glances over at the store attached to the BP and gets out of his car. “You say he likes jerky?”  

Cas just nods. “Yes, but I didn’t bring any money with me. I couldn’t-“

“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Dean says as he gets out of the car. “If it will find him, then I’ll buy it. It’s the best chance we’ve got.” 

He doesn’t let Cas respond before he’s running over to the doors and throwing them open. The place is empty besides a tired looking cashier behind the counter, and Dean beelines for the rows of jerky at the back of the store. When he finds a stack of energy drinks too, Dean grabs two and walks over to the cash register to pay. 

“You’re awfully chipper for two in the morning,” the woman- Anna, her name tag says- replies as she begins scanning the items. 

“Yeah well, I’m trying to find a lost dog. A greyhound hasn’t come through here, right? He’d be about yea high, tan, responds to the name Bark Ruffalo?”  

The girl laughs and throws Dean’s items in a bag. “Bark-“ 

“It’s not my dog,” Dean interrupts her before she can comment on the name. “It’s a friend of mine’s.” 

Anna grins when she pushes the bag over to Dean. “That’ll be 3.50,” she says, then quickly deposits the cash when she gets it from Dean. “You must really like your friend if you’re out in the middle of the night looking for their dog.” 

Dean just glances out at the car. Through the window, he can see that Cas has found his old cassette collection and is grinning down at the names. Hell, he even throws in a little air guitar move when Dean looks over.  

“Yeah,” Dean replies. “I guess I really do.” 

* * *

Three A.M rolls around with no sign of the dog. The jerky did not attract anything other than a curious raccoon, and now Dean can feel the tendrils of sleep reaching out to pull him into another dream about blondes on beaches. He tries not to think about the fact that he needs to be at work in a few hours either, and already is wondering if Victor will be pissed if he calls in sick on a lab testing day. 

“What’s your job?” Cas asks as Dean pulls up to a stop light.  

Dean yawns before looking at Cas. “What?”  

“You looked tired; I’m trying to ask you questions to keep you awake,” Cas explains. “So…what is your job?”

“In layman’s terms, I’m a designer,” Dean responds. “I do the groundwork on prosthetics for war veterans mostly, y’know, arms, legs, the like.” 

Cas goes quiet for a bit before asking his next question. “Why do you do it?” 

Dean floors the car when the light turns green and curls his fingers around the wheel. He’s never told anyone _why_ he does it, and he begins to wonder if anyone has ever asked. “My dad was a Vietnam veteran,” Dean replies. “Marines. He lost an arm on duty and never was the same after that. We…uh…never had the money to get him a prosthetic and the government sure as hell wasn’t about to help out, so I told myself that one day I’d make one for him.” 

He pauses for a second and glances over at Cas. The man’s eyes are completely focused on him, and that’s why Dean continues. 

“He died when I was fifteen,” Dean says as he pulls over to the side of the road. “Alcohol was his coping mechanism after the war and one day he just…I don’t know…drank too much and walked out into traffic. Car ran him over, just like that.”  

The car remains quiet after the words are said, and Dean wonders if he took it too far. He’s only known Cas for a few hours after all, and now he’s revealed one of the biggest facts about himself. He’s about to turn back home and try to ignore that it ever happened when Cas’s hand lands on his. 

“My father was never around,” Cas says as he glances out the window, his eyes focused on something in the distance. “Left when I was around five, and my mom raised me and my brother alone. She’s the reason why I train Bark Ruffalo, actually. Ever heard of Leeza Novak?” 

“No, can’t say that I have,” Dean replies. 

Cas gets this tiny smile on his face when he talks about her. “She’s great; one of the best dog trainers in the world. She’s won at least fifty awards in her career and I have a lot of expectations to live up to now that she’s retired. Bark was the last dog she ever trained, but she never got to take him to competition before she retired. Now it’s kinda all on me to make him the best, y’know?” 

Dean nods like he gets it, then pulls onto the road again when Cas begins calling out Bark's name. He doesn’t comment on the fact that Cas’s hand doesn’t leave its spot on his. 

* * *

When the sun begins to rise above the horizon, Dean drives Cas back to their neighborhood with no dog panting in the back seat. No matter where they looked or how many times they called out ‘Bark Ruffalo,’ the infamous show dog never came running. Dean tries to comfort Cas when he gets out of the car, but the man is having none of it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find your dog, Cas. I know you loved him.”

“I just need to wallow in a little bit of pity,” Cas says dejectedly as he turns in Dean’s direction. “Bark Ruffalo was a good dog, and if he never shows up again I’ll miss him greatly.” Cas walks forward and leans into Dean’s space, and he jumps a little bit when Cas leaves a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Dean. You showed me kindness when nobody else in this neighborhood would.” 

Dean turns away because there’s no way in hell he’s letting Cas see that he’s _blushing like a little girl,_ and when he does his eye catches a long snout poking out from Cas’s window curtains.  

_Son of a bitch._

“Cas…isn’t that your dog in your house?” Dean says as he grabs Cas’s shoulders, turning him until he too can see the nose pressed up against the glass. 

Cas’s face lights up immediately! “Yes! That’s Bark Ruffalo!”  

Dean can’t believe it. “Are you telling me that I spent the past six hours looking for a dog that has been in your house the entire time?!”  

“Uh…yes? Maybe? In my defense I couldn’t find him anywhere-“ 

“You’re ridiculous,” Dean interrupts with a groan. “Now I need to go into work half asleep all because of a lost dog that was never lost.” 

Cas looks down at the ground and Dean almost feels bad about snapping at him…almost.  

“I can make it up to you,” Cas says, and Dean brings his eyes up to meet the apologetic dog owner. 

“Yeah? How?” 

Cas leans back on his heels and twiddles with his fingers. “I’ve really enjoyed our time together and…I don’t want it to end? If you’re free tonight I’d love to take you out to dinner.” 

Dean grins up at him. “Are you asking me out, Cas?” 

Cas laughs. “Yes, I guess I am.” 

“Well then,” Dean replies as he leans into Cas’s space and throws an arm around his waist, “it’s a date.” 

* * *

Cas takes Dean out to a fancy French restaurant in town, and even though Dean is usually against anything that costs more than ten dollars, he has to admit that the place isn’t pretentious like he would've thought. Also, it’s worth it for the long, languid kiss he gets from Cas at the end of the night. 

Dean takes Cas out the next night…and the night after that…and the night after that. Before Dean knows it, five months have passed and Cas has become a permanent fixture by his side, his boyfriend without them even really establishing it. It’s a little foreign to Dean; he’s never just clicked with anyone so seamlessly before, but after their third date together, Dean knew that Cas was special.  

He remembers that now as they crash through Cas’s front door after their long weekend out. Cas just won a local dog competition with Bark Ruffalo and celebratory sex is definitely in the cards.  

“Mhm, you look great in that suit,” Dean says as he pops open Cas's jacket button, “but you’ll look better with it off.” 

Cas groans as Dean dips down to bite a mark into his neck, and then they’re fumbling through the hallway as they lean in for deep, passionate kisses as they throw off layers upon layers of clothing. 

“Need you,” Cas pants as they stumble into his bedroom. “Take your clothes off.” 

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice, so he quickly strips off his t-shirt as Cas yanks off his tie. It only takes one wild, lust filled glance at Cas for the man to push him back onto the bed, but they don’t get far before a loud screech rings out from under Dean’s body, and a furry blur sprints out of the room. 

Cas just looks at Dean apologetically. “I guess I didn’t introduce you to Neil Catrick Harris?” 

 


End file.
